


Fate Is A Sword Forged in The Furnace of Life

by LivingInATimeOf_Myths



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, King Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Love, M/M, Protective Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 01:07:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30030693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivingInATimeOf_Myths/pseuds/LivingInATimeOf_Myths
Summary: Arthur confesses to Merlin how difficult the transition to being a king is. Set in a vague, non-specific time.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Kudos: 48





	Fate Is A Sword Forged in The Furnace of Life

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while. Nothing I'm writing is abandoned, but I've found myself needing time to work with life rather than engage in my love of writing. Nonetheless, I do hope you enjoy and that all is well. This is very much non-edited, written off in twenty minutes rather than lovingly crafted, but I felt inspired for a moment and had the time. All errors are my own!

“When my father died,” Arthur began slowly, hesitantly, sounding out the words, “I finally realized what kingship was, what it meant.”

Merlin leaned over the stone railing, stretched out his arms over the vast emptiness of darkness below. He tilted his head, made a questioning noise.

“It meant loss.” Arthur said. His face grew tense, pained, then he closed his eyes and let out a breath. His face hardened. “When I was only a prince, I dreamt of the day I would be king.” 

He let out a bitter laugh. “I dreamt of the feasts, the honours I would bestow on my men, of the courtly ladies,” here he shot a shy but pleased look towards Merlin, “even-even of the men dressed in the latest fashions.”

Merlin smiled at him, edged closer, reached out one hand to Arthur. The king took it, clasped it tightly, wove his fingers into Merlin’s.

“I didn’t understand that becoming king meant loss,” Arthur looked into Merlin’s eyes, “that it meant loss of a father, loss of guiding, loss of innocence.”

He let go of Merlin’s hand, stalking across the stone balcony, turned his back on Merlin standing there in the moonlight. “No longer could I pretend that the decisions I made were inconsequential-worse, I knew that every decision I made would result in pain for someone, somewhere.” 

Merlin ached for Arthur in that moment, but he remained in place. 

Arthur closed his eyes, let his forehead fall against the cool, rough stone of the wall. 

“It meant confronting the past and building a better future-knowing that my father,” his voice grew thick and he cleared it to no avail, “that my father was not a good man, not even a good ruler.”

The next sentence he whispered softly against the stone, so Merlin had to strain to hear it.

“My father would have destroyed everything I would find so beautiful, simply for the sake of seeing it bleed, and knowing it was mortal like him.”

  
  


At that, Merlin dropped his hand to his sides, strode across the balcony until he reached Arthur. He tried to look Arthur in the eyes, but the king closed them, fine tremors running up and down the strong frame. Merlin leaned against the stone and spoke softly in the king’s direction.

“Life is fragile, Arthur. We aren’t all meant to craft our own destinies-some of us are preordained with the fate the universe saw fit to gift us.”

Arthur dropped his head, scraping it against rough rock. Merlin took Arthur’s face in his hands and tilted it towards himself. Arthur’s eyes opened and Merlin fixed him with an intense stare.

“It’s up to us to make the most of the destinies we’ve been given. You’ve  _ done  _ that, Arthur. You’ve managed to force the river of fate to bend to your will-a will that is born not out of hatred, but out of love.” Merlin smiled softly at Arthur, and the king lunged forward, throwing broad arms around his beloved. 

Merlin’s arms rose to circle the king in, draw him closer, make him feel  _ safe.  _ He leaned to whisper in Arthur’s ear. 

“You’re the greatest king Camelot will ever know.”

Arthur shifted one of his arms to encircle Merlin’s waist. The other rose, hand circling the crown of Merlin’s head, and he drew the warlock in. He leaned in and kissed him desperately, chasing the thrill as Merlin pressed in close. They stayed like that, bodies pressed tightly against each other, sharing the warmth, until they broke apart to breath. 

Arthur tilted his forehead against Merlin’s own, butting up against him like some great cat asking for pets. Merlin raised his own arms and slung them around Arthur’s neck, laughing breathlessly.

“Just don’t let it go to your head, you great prat.”

Arthur grinned and asked, “Now is that any way to talk to the greatest king of all time?”

Merlin rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to respond, “You  _ royal pr-”,  _ but was cut off by Arthur’s great belly laugh, the king pulling him close to steal another kiss.

Merlin laughed into the embrace, smiling against Arthur’s lips. 

**Author's Note:**

> Because sometimes we need to be reminded that the past isn't perfect, but that it also doesn't dictate our future. <3


End file.
